


Bromance

by amine



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bromance to Romance, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9227966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amine/pseuds/amine
Summary: "They were thick as thieves, the very best of friends. They were casually and comfortably affectionate with each other, to the point that others would ask if they were a couple.No, of course not, they would respond. They werefriends. Very, very good friends."





	

**Author's Note:**

> A few things:  
> 1\. This isn't the fic I was editing. That one still needs to be edited before I'll feel good about posting it.  
> 2\. I have one other fic in addition to the one that needs to be edited that I'm about 75% certain I'll post.   
> 3\. This particular fic used to be under a different title, but I think that title was somewhat offensive, so I've changed it. It also used to be in three "chapters" which is why it may seem disconnected.

Alfred had been friends with Arthur since forever. It had started off rocky when Alfred had been too young to comprehend the idea of accents, and had thought Arthur just talked funny. 

That animosity had been short-lived, though, and soon they were the best of friends. They went through everything together—fights, trouble with parents and siblings, complaining about school together, other friends that came and went, razzing each other about how long it took for them to lose their virginities, love in general—everything.

They were thick as thieves, the very best of friends. They were casually and comfortably affectionate with each other, to the point that others would ask if they were a couple.

No, of course not, they would respond. They were _friends_. Very, very good friends.

It stayed like that into their adulthood, when they went their separate ways and communicated electronically or by phone, and then the issue became when they were ever going to meet the right girl to settle down with.

There came a night, when Alfred was visiting Arthur, that they decided to stay in and drink. Alfred never drank enough to get drunk, and neither did Arthur, but it was enough to give him a pleasant buzz. 

It was also enough for him to appreciate Arthur’s laughter, Arthur’s green eyes, Arthur’s breath on his face, Arthur’s long fingers in his hair, Arthur’s hot tongue tangling with his.

By the time he realized what was really happening, it was too late to turn back. Clothes were shed, sloppy kisses were exchanged, and wallet condoms were haphazardly removed in the midst of a lot of groping and moaning.

He was fucking Arthur. Nothing had ever felt so hot or tight or perfect or _right_ before. Combined with Arthur’s moans and hissed encouragements, it made Alfred wonder if he really was drunk.

He couldn’t have pretended it was a fluke, since they went at it again right after and then twice more before the night was done. 

It was only awkward in the morning, when they were sore and sticky and, most awkward of all, craving to do it all over again.

Figuring it out could wait for later, they decided as they met halfway again.

* * *

It was supposed to be his vacation. He’d visit Arthur, explore a bit of jolly old England and go home feeling well rested and better for having seen his friend.

Well. He supposed he _could_ say he’d done quite a bit of exploring one part of jolly old England, at least.

He’d honestly lost count of how many times they’d had sex at that point—how many times he’d fucked Arthur, how many times Arthur had fucked him. He wasn’t even sure what day it was anymore. Every time they decided that no more, they’d had enough and were going to eat or shower, one of them got a blowjob, they frotted wildly or one of them wound up bent over the nearest flat surface. They’d ventured out at one point to get more condoms and lube, and it had been dark at that point, but Alfred honestly couldn’t remember how long ago that was. Days? Hours?

He was sore in ways he didn’t think possible, and he had learned how dangerous it was to try to hold Arthur up and fuck him while in a slippery shower, among other things.

It was a little surreal. 

Yet, there they were in Arthur’s bed, the sheets pulled over their heads as they kissed and tangled their limbs together, waiting for their libidos to kick in again. They were going to have sex again, that much was certain. They were going to have sex until Alfred had go home—whenever that was. 

They were friends—very, very good friends—who just happened to have spent an unknown amount of time having a lot of sex.

Happened to everyone, didn’t it?

* * *

Packing was very easy, since he hadn’t worn the majority of the clothes he’d originally put in his suitcase. 

Bringing himself to leave was another matter entirely.

“You sure you don’t want me to reschedule my flight so I can help you clean up?”

A wry smile appeared on Arthur’s face and he shook his head. “I have a feeling I’ll get a lot more done if you’re not here.”

Alfred had to snort, and then he was chuckling along with Arthur. 

Still, he fidgeted with his belt, stalling as he tried to find the right words to ask—dear god, did Arthur’s collarbone look tempting through his low cut shirt—what he wasn’t entirely certain of.

When he couldn’t find an excuse to fidget anymore, Arthur cleared his throat. He looked away, looking a little lost, and then he met Alfred’s gaze.

“So…you and I…we’re… _something_ now, aren’t we? This wasn’t just a fluke?”

Alfred felt all tension melt away from his muscles and he smiled. While not exactly eloquent, Arthur had managed to voice what Alfred had been wanting to ask, as well.

“Well, I don’t know. Would you call a week’s worth of almost nonstop sex a fluke?”

A smile fluttered across Arthur’s features and then faded into uncertainty again. Alfred scratched the back of his head and then shrugged.

“All right, real talk? I’m not gay, but I’m pretty damn gay for you. Probably have been since the day we met. And this week? All that sexual tension we’ve been building up since puberty. So yeah, we’re _something_ , all right.”

Arthur’s mouth twitched shortly before he burst into laughter and Alfred had to admire how ridiculously good it sounded, how sexy Arthur was, how yes, he was 100% Arthursexual if such a thing were possible.

“Yes, we truly are _something_ , considering I’m rather…gay for you, too.”

They both smiled and it felt really stupidly wonderful to do so. Finally Alfred broke the silence.

“What do you think our friends’ll think?”

Arthur clicked his tongue. “They’ll say they saw it coming, I’d imagine. I’ve already received about twenty text messages from Francis wondering why I never responded to his question about when we’d go out to drink with him this week. He’ll be beside himself when he finds out what we were up to the whole time.”

“Don’t give him too many details.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

At some point they’d gotten very close again, so it was very simple to close the distance in another of so many kisses they’d shared already. It was different that time, though. There was closure. There was certainty.

There was Arthur’s hand in his jeans.

Alfred broke the kiss and panted. “We better stop now or I’ll never get to leave.”

The fingers of the hand not in his jeans skittered along his jawline. “Don’t stop then.”

Alfred let out a breathy laugh and swallowed hard. “One more thing, though.”

“What?”

“That ‘no homo’ shit we’ve been doing all these years? Fuck it, all of the homo.”


End file.
